The same leaders you are making,
With the leadership you are doing,
In the name of helping the poor,
But what they have you are snatching.
Oh barbaric leader!
Who said your leadership is good?
surrounded by a legion of sycophants,
And you think they are advisers,
You lost it my leader,
For you fed on the poor.
Their mouths are wide open,
Their lips dead dry,
White like cassava flour,
You will know them in an hour,
When you realise its hunger,
That directs their advise.
You have killed the innocent,
Because of hiding the evidence,
Of the property you took from them,
To pile riches for your children,
Who will live forever,
Because of your unstopable power.
You claim that you are insecure,
That you’ll be killed by your enemies,
Why kill you my leader?
A friend of the people,
And a friend of development.
Young men are your guards,
They shield you from the arrows,
In a pestilence you fly away,
But their bodies are buried,
For protecting their leader,
But like rats they die.